


livewires

by kitafox (lucasfletcher)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Sexy Times, college student Akaashi, food as a love language (kind of), gratuitous butchering of that one richard siken poem you know which one, who the heck knows what Osamu does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucasfletcher/pseuds/kitafox
Summary: You are in an apartment with a beautiful boy at six in the morning. It feels somehow fitting. That you are not doing this in the dark, even though you both knew it was going to happen and could've happened earlier, that you found your way here, that it was inevitable like the way you can be sure those power lines are going to tighten up in the winter and come closer.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 16
Kudos: 161





	livewires

**Author's Note:**

> henLo osaaka nation,, please jus,t,,  
> take this from me, im in the middle of exams and i should be studying instead i found myself typing this up furiously as these two would not!!leave me!!alone! 
> 
> TW// alcohol and sex
> 
> when they do the deed they are already sober, however, this may be upsetting to some as they’ve been drinking before and did not get proper rest after that,,  
> consent is strongly implied, Do Not try this at home tho

It’s too stuffy in the _izakaya_. Which is to be expected, since the space isn't too big to begin with; however, Akaashi finds out just how quickly the air can be recirculated by thirty something full grown athletes and college students. He should've been prepared for that, he is always prepared for everything. Even now there are at least three escape routes in his direct field of vision. It’s only the getting to them that proves to be a bit difficult by the entirety of one massive Bokuto thigh pressing into him from one side and a smaller, but no less sturdy Suna Rintarou from the other.

He isn’t quite drunk yet, but he is well on his way there. That seems to stem from the fact that he got stuck between the biggest enablers. Everyone knows that a placement of Suna, Hinata and/or Hoshiumi within the reach of your cup is just unfortunate.

That should’ve been Akaashi’s first warning sign. Or, the first one should’ve been the weird tug in his gut when Bokuto joined forces with Kuroo to make him come out tonight.

Akaashi worries about a lot of things. He is worried about how his lease is ending soon and how he’s not sure he wants to live at his apartment anymore, he is worried about the piling assignment deadlines and also the fact that no matter how hard he scrubs at this smudge on his kitchen counter it just won’t come out. He misses structure in his life, misses evenings spent at the school gym, just tossing and tossing and not taking much time to worry about anything in those moments, even though it’s been quite a long time ago. Except, he maybe also is kind of glad for those worries, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have stood in front of his closet and let himself be dressed and dragged to the _izakaya._

Or, at least that’s what he tells himself, despite his eyes that keep wandering stubbornly to the left with each cup of _shochu_ he drinks. Because the main reason they are even here is Bokuto demanding a mid-semester get together. Where Bokuto goes, the volleyball team follows. The volleyball team also means Miya Atsumu. And with Miya Atsumu there is usually also a chance of —

Sometimes you meet someone and you just. Know. When Akaashi first met Osamu, he thought, oh. This is not the first time I am going to See You. Oh, I was not looking but I guess I found. Something. And then they proceeded to just pass each other by, like two parallel power lines, closer in the winter when they tighten up and then far away again in the summer, when they lengthen from the heat and sag down. They run approximately in the same circles, there just aren't many opportunities to hold stimulating conversation when you are worrying about a lot of things like Akaashi is.

So, there comes a point when, after a careful consideration, Akaashi narrows down his choice of an escape route down to one and it is definitely because climbing over Suna is easier than trying to go over Bokuto and definitely not because there are Other People on the left side of the bench that he is going to come into contact with. And it also has nothing to do with the number of drinks currently sloshing inside of him. He grabs this opportunity when Bokuto and Kuroo are too distracted with demonstrating the way Bokuto can balance two shot glasses on his chest and drink them without spilling.

“Sunarin, sorry, I’m gonna go over,” Akaashi says as he stands up and turns his back to the table, hoping that he won’t knock anything over - standing up never seems like a bad idea until you actually do it and your head starts going in circles. Suna grabs the sleeve of his shirt.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

But Akaashi is not listening anymore, he is focusing forward, muttering excuse me’s and sorry’s as he almost successfully reaches the end of the table, except, of course, looking too far into the distance proves to be his biggest mistake. Akaashi’s escape plans always work out the way they should, proven that he does not have a whole merry-go-round at the back of his brain and a continuous ringing in his ears.

  
Which is how when he notices what is happening it is already too late to stop. The first thing he registers are the hands. Strong, sturdy, wrapping around his hips - thumbs in the front and long fingers reaching towards the small of his back. The second is the grinning face of Miya Osamu, looking up and closer with the way Akaashi automatically catches himself on his shoulders.

“Careful there.”

Akaashi is suddenly glad Bokuto and Kuroo are quite far and distracted, or else he would never have lived down the way his mouth parts and the only sound that is able to come out is: “Uh.” He can feel the heat slowly spreading from the back of his neck towards his ears that have successfully stopped ringing, but decided to multiply the sound of his heartbeat tenfold instead.

He watches, dazed and fascinated as Osamu’s eyebrows slowly furrow. “Hey, ‘Kaashi-kun, are you alright?”

Akaashi can feel the way his glasses are sitting all crooked on his nose and he finds it in himself to push off Osamu’s shoulders and fix them, bowing a bit. “I’m sorry, I got a bit dizzy. Thank you.”

Consider this. You are at an izakaya and it’s eleven thirty. You get caught by a beautiful boy, but you let him go. You do not think of it as a wasted opportunity, because somehow you know that this is not the end of it — you worry about a lot of things, however, this just seems like the sort of thing that is pointless to worry about. The outcome is not going to change, just like the steady flow of electricity running through those sagged down copper cables — no matter how many more birds weigh down on them, the amount of electricity expended from one end to the other stays the same.

°

Somewhere between Akaashi’s way to the toilet and back to the table, Kuroo catches his eyes and zeroes in on the way Akaashi is pulling at his fingers. Most people are milling about, putting on their outerwear. He comes over carrying Akaashi’s jacket. Claps him on the shoulder. Hands him a soda bottle. Kuroo knows his tells, that just comes from sharing a living space with someone for the better part of a year, which is why Akaashi can’t even be mad when he says, “Keiji, I am saying this from the goodness of my heart, but get the fuck out of your head and come help me destroy Bo’s ass at karaoke.”

Somewhere between their way to the karaoke bar and Akaashi downing the entirety of a _yuzu_ _ramune_ , he gets the fuck out of his head. This comes quite easy because he’s had plenty of training from Kuroo being on his case about it, as much as he loves to walk into a room and instantly be aware of everything, thinking of quickest ways to escape when it starts getting too uncomfortable for him.

And so they destroy Bokuto’s ass at English rock ballads but inevitably lose the k-pop round. And so Akaashi gets lost in the music.

And so Akaashi dances like nobody is watching; not because he is alone, but he can pretend that he doesn't know anyone and that they are far away from him; he dances like the floor is a stiff body of a handsome man; he dances like his arms and legs aren’t connected to him - an illustrated cartoon character from a folk fairytale; he dances as if he swallowed a seed of a tree and over the years it slowly grew into the shape of his veins like a carefully maintained bonsai; he dances as if he loved his body; he dances even faster when the songs get faster and he pretends he knows them; he dances so he is out of reach of the hands around him, so they can’t keep up with his rhythm and then he pushes his damp hair behind his ears, slows down the spinning, stumbles out of the karaoke room and for the second time this night gets caught.

This time though he ends up a lot closer, gets captured by a whole body, pressed together, the arms crossing behind his back. His hands on Osamu’s biceps, right where the sleeves of his shirt give way to skin. It's hot underneath Akaashi’s pinkies.

“Hey there, ‘Kaashi-kun.” Osamu’s grin is wolfish, and god, he is so handsome, the lights of the dim hallway playing off his features. Eyes bright underneath his heavy eyelids. And Akaashi is just a weak, weak man, that’s why he doesn’t immediately pull away and grins too, instead.

“Hello. We just seem to be meeting this way tonight.” Akaashi isn’t sure if the heat is coming from him or Osamu, but the arms around him don’t seem to be in a hurry to let him go, so he basks in it a little.

“Hm, ya seem to have a penchant for stumbling right into my arms. Careful, or I might start thinking yer doing it on purpose.” Their voices are low, as if not to disturb the relative quiet of the hallway, the pulsing music just a distant sound until a door opens, letting sounds escape and echo, then fade away again with a click.

Akaashi can feel their chests move together every time they breathe in.

“Or, you are just waiting around for me to fall so you can sweep in and catch me. Bet it’s an elaborate plan to leave me owing you.”

“Well, it wasn’t, but if yer offering, ‘m not gonna say no,” Osamu’s smile is teasing, playing at the corners of his eyes.

“Okay then, how could I ever repay you, o' my greatest saviour?”

And even before Osamu opens his mouth to reply, he knows what the words are going to be.

°

Consider this. You are wandering down the _yokocho_ at half past one in the morning. It is raining; however, the buildings are pressed so close together you can barely feel it. A beautiful boy grabbed your hand in the thick of a crowd, but he hasn't let go after. You don’t know what it is about tonight. Your head is already clearer than before, though now you are getting lost in the feel of the night rushing around you. This, too, feels like it was inevitable. This, too, feels like a moment you’ve been heading towards from the get go.

Osamu looks at Akaashi with a serious expression on his face. “Will ya let me choose somethin’ for you?”

“I’m not really picky. Even if I were, isn’t this just street food?”

“Just street food, he says. _Tch._ C’mon. Lemme show ya somethin’.”

They weave around a few more places, Osamu eventually stopping at one of the stalls, where he pushes Akaashi into a corner seat. “Wait here.”

It’s obvious that Osamu is well known at this place, chatting animatedly with the elder couple manning the kitchen area — their hands busy fluttering around. Akaashi can’t really distinguish any particular smell, it's all mixed together. The most prominent thing being frying oil and he already knows his jacket is going to absorb all of the scents they passed through tonight. He can’t find it in himself to mind.

He admires Osamu’s side profile, cheek stretched with the force of his smile; he eyes the place where his undercut smooths into the skin of his neck; his tan hands with fingers spread and imagines putting his mouth right—

“Are ya that hungry?”

Osamu places a tray down on the circular table.

“Huh?”

“You were starin’ real hard. Who let ya starve, ha? Lemme have a few words with them.”

Akaashi can feel himself blush in the tips of his damned ears. “I’m sorry, I-“

“‘M just kidding. Though I hope yer ready to get yer taste buds blown right off.”

“Uh oh, hopefully they won’t be doing that,” Akaashi lets his mouth stretch into a small smile.”I am looking forward to tasting all this. Wasn’t I supposed to be paying, though?”

“I’ll make ya a deal. We’ll consider it yer payment if ya let me watch ya enjoy this.”

Osamu’s foot knocks into Akaashi’s under the table and he would think of it an accident if it weren’t for the playful glint in Osamu’s eyes. Akaashi rolls his ankle so he can knock into him right back.

“Alright, then. It seems like you are well known here.” Akaashi surveys the food in front of him, what looks like a stew in two smaller bowls, chicken _yakitori_ with pieces of _negi_ and a plate of _gyoza,_ plus a few sides and rice. “What should i try first, then?”

“Go for the _tonjiru_ first.” Osamu pushes one of the bowls of stew towards Akaashi whilst starting on his own. “And, yeah, me ’n 'Tsumu used to come here a lot, ever since our first landlord told us ‘bout this place.”

And as soon as Akaashi takes the first bite of the pork and slurps at the broth, he understands. “Oh, wow. This is good.”

Osamu looks on smugly, his own chopsticks clacking against the lip of the rice bowl. The next few minutes are filled by the sounds of cutlery. It is by no means quiet, the noise of the other customers and a radio blasting from somewhere over their heads filling up the gaps.

Osamu seems to be making good on his promise of watching Akaashi. He gets a bit shy from all the attention, focuses on the food instead of looking up at Osamu. It isn’t until —

“Here.”

Osamu breaks up a _gyoza_ with his chopsticks and holds up a piece towards him. Akaashi leans in without thinking. It isn’t until he sees Osamu looking at him with an undecipherable look on his face that he realises what happened.

“Oh, yeah, the taste buds are scattering around from the force of the blow now,” Akaashi is quick to say, embarrassed but refusing to show it, except for the damned ears. Osamu looks to the side with a laugh then, popping the other half of the _gyoza_ into his own mouth.

“‘M glad ya like it. Though I knew ya would.”

“I know what you meant that it isn’t ‘just street food’, now.”

He doesn’t know how long they sit there. Akaashi lets it all just wash over him, the sounds of the night around him, the hearty food, Osamu’s legs that tangle with his, their mindless teasing conversation. And the rain, dripping down the eaves, catching Akaashi’s attention every now and then.

By the time he checks his phone, he knows what he is going to find. “I missed my last train.”

Osamu’s eyes, considering.

“Ya could wait or sleep over at my apartment. It is not far from here.”

Akaashi’s eyes, considering. Then, a nod.

°

The rain finally stopped. Dawn is coming in with the clouds dispersed, so it gradually starts getting brighter in Osamu’s living room. Akaashi thinks he drifted off for a bit, after Osamu insisted for him to go wash up first, leaning on the back of the couch. The heavy wave of exhaustion seemed to have passed now and he finds himself in a tooawake state, so he makes his way to the window to open it and leans on the windowsill, staring unfocused at the balconies of the neighbouring apartment building. The door to the bathroom opens.

Osamu steps out and their eyes meet as Akaashi twists to look. Osamu seems to be searching Akaashi’s eyes and he doesn’t know what he finds there, but Osamu makes his way to the couch and sits down heavily. In the next moment he has Akaashi’s wrist in his hand and he tugs so Akaashi sprawls sideways on his lap. One of Osamu’s hands goes to his thigh, the other tangling in the curls at the back of Akaashi’s head.

Akaashi’s mouth falls open in a faint gasp. Osamu’s eyes track the movement, then go back up to Akaashi’s eyes.

“'Kaashi,” he murmurs, so soft. The oncoming light seems to have scrubbed their edges raw of the harshness of the night.

“Yes,” Akaashi breathes out and his next breath in is already shared with Osamu’s exhale as he angles their heads and presses their lips together. A quick peck, then lingering press. A shudder goes through Akaashi’s body, exacerbated by the feel of Osamu’s nails scratching at his nape.Akaashi presses forward harder, lips catching and pulling away in slow, dragging motions, mouths falling open.

With Osamu’s hand stroking at his thigh and the other still petting at his hair, fingers tangling and untangling with the strands, Akaashi’s both hands go to Osamu’s jaw and still its movement, so that he can tilt his head better and carefully lick inside of his hot mouth. Osamu’s tongue follows his, flicking over his palate and then tangling between their mouths, soft smacking sounds and hums accompanying the push and pull.

Osamu pulls away to kiss along Akaashi’s cheekbone, then jaw, moving down his neck right where his erratic heartbeat presses at the thin skin the strongest. Akaashi leans his nose to Osamu’s hairline, trying to catch his breath there a bit. Then he kisses at Osamu’s temple, the corner of his eye. Osamu raises his head after a lingering suck and then just. Looks at him. Pushes his thumb down onto Akaashi’s wet bottom lip and drags it down, studies Akaashi’s eyes as if he’s searching for the live wire that every part of Akaashi feels like it’s made out of.

“Akaashi.”

Akaashi read somewhere that the more you look into someone’s eyes, the more attracted you become to them. That does not seem to be possible with the way he is already turned on right now.

He shakes his head. “Keiji.”

“Keiji. You are so beautiful.”

Akaashi watches his mouth form the syllables and when he finally makes sense of the words in his brain, it is the thing that actually makes him blush and avert his gaze. The living room is slowly changing colours, grey giving way to pastel yellows and there they are, seemingly suspended in time as the world moves. Akaashi thinks of the touches, thinks of the hand that is moving up and down his thigh, thinks of the wet heat of Osamu’s mouth, he shudders again, this time not from the sensation of being too close to someone, but the window is still opened and a the cold air around them is making him clench his teeth to suppress his shaking.

Osamu noses at his ear, says, “Are ya cold, hm?” and Akaashi presses his fingers to Osamu’s neck in an answer, sliding them towards his back and down the collar of his t-shirt. He finds himself mellowed out, maybe that is why: “Warm me up?”

He almost wants to laugh at Osamu’s sleazy grin, knows nothing good will come out from the way his mouth opens to form around teasing words, so he leans to steal them out with his own mouth,eyes still half opened. Osamu hums, licking in almost immediately, holds his gaze, kisses at his chin and then swiftly moves to bite at Akaashi’s collarbone. Presses his teeth to the top of his pec through the t-shirt, then, catching Akaashi off guard he. Clamps down on his nipple.

“H-haah,” Akaashi gasps, pressing the backs of his fingers to his mouth.

Consider this. You are in an apartment with a beautiful boy at six in the morning. It feels somehow fitting. That you are not doing this in the dark, even though you both knew it was going to happen and could've happened earlier, that you found your way here, that it was inevitable like the way you can be sure those power lines are going to tighten up in the winter and come closer. Closer still, like the way you angle your ruler wrong when drawing an example on a maths paper and instead of drawing two parallel lines they just. Overlap.

“Can we please—um.”

“Can we what?”

“Don’t be mean, Samu.”

And Osamu just patiently raises his eyes to Akaashi’s, waits. Akaashi is not in his head, got the fuck out of it earlier in the evening, he doesn’t think he can find his way back there anymore, not now, not in the lap of a beautiful boy with a hand on his ass and the other petting at his hair. He breathes in, “Warm me up… in your bed?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

°

Osamu makes good on his promise of warming him up. The bedroom window placement allows less light to come in, so the shadows are more pronounced as Osamu lays Akaashi down onto his bed. He feels stretched thin, suddenly more aware of the sounds of their kissing and the muffled moans he tries to keep down. Osamu’s hands just keep wandering, making it hard. They are everywhere at once, Akaashi’s hair, up his t-shirt on the bare skin of his back, dragging up and down his thighs towards his ass.

And his lips, so hot, they just keep kissing at his slack mouth over and over, too much teeth and just enough tongue. Osamu draws away with a smacking sound, pulling Akaashi’s shirt up to his chest.

  
“Take it off,” he says, pulling off his own and chucking it across the room, then making quick work of Akaashi’s borrowed sweatpants, leaving him in his boxers.

Akaashi’s bare legs end up sprawled over Osamu’s thighs. He moves them closed a bit, brushes of hot skin on skin. A sudden movement, then, Akaashi’s ankle in Osamu’s grip. He runs his thumb over the sole of his foot, as if he was wiping down the condensation left on the bottom of the window after a long December night. Turns his head to kiss at the inside of his knee. Bends over Akaashi, slow, steady, pushing the bent leg towards his chest. His eyes widen at the way he can hook it over his shoulder and press into Akaashi without any protests.

“Oh, fuck. That’s so hot.”

“I do yoga at least biweekly.” Akaashi feels empowered by the way Osamu’s other hand experimentally stretches the other leg to the side. He loses some of his cheek, though, when Osamu grinds down onto him, throwing his head back and arching his back.

A drawer opens and then falls shut again. Akaashi turns his head to watch the bottle of lube fall down onto the pillow and suddenly needs to have Osamu’s cock inside him as soon as possible. “Fuck me,” he gasps.

“I’m on it, baby.”

“Now. Please.”

Akaashi writhes on the bed with every stroke of Osamu’s hands up his chest. The boxers get pulled off him in a swift movement and then there’s a lubed hand wrapping around his cock, pulling in a maddening rhythm and — “Wait. Wait, wait, don’t… if you do that I'm going to come too quick.”

Osamu’s teeth glint. “Are ya that worked up, Keiji?”

Instead of answering, Akaashi sits up and pushes at Osamu’s chest to move him back, leaning down and licking and biting along the line of his sweatpants while taking out his cock. He lets saliva pool in his mouth and then drip on the swollen tip, his tongue quick to follow. He licks softly at the sensitive frenulum, takes him in his mouth; Osamu’s hands tangle in his hair and Akaashi can hear his breathing pattern change, intercepted by soft groans.

Akaashi is focused inching the long cock down his throat and so when a lubed finger suddenly presses on his hole, he chokes and tears spring into his eyes. He pulls off and glares up at Osamu, who tugs him up to kiss him, wet and drawn out. The finger moves deeper and Akaashi clings onto Osamu’s shoulders, their cocks brushing between their bodies, trapped.

“Come on, you can do two. I’m not gonna break.” Akaashi punctuates his words by biting at Osamu’s ear. He gets laid out on the bed again, the fingers complying and stretching him in slow drags. Akaashi lets himself be kissed into oblivion again, losing himself in the sensation, two fingers, then three, then. The tip of Osamu’s cock, pushing the breath out of him.

They groan in unison, Akaashi’s hands pawing at Osamu’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer. Osamu raises his leg up again and uses it as leverage to fuck into him. “Damn, ya feel s-so good.”

Akaashi doesn’t know what to do with his own hands. He pulls at his hair, grasps at the sheets and he doesn’t even care about the embarrassing whimpers that escape from time to time. When he gets pulled up into Osamu’s lap again, he slows it down, mouths meeting. They topple over again, this time with Akaashi on top. Osamu’s cock slips out from his hole with the movement and he is quick to reach to guide it back, bracing his knees and sitting down. He can feel the sweat that beads down Osamu’s chest when he braces his hands there to start moving.

Akaashi gets dizzy with the way he can’t breathe. He moves his hand to grasp his cock, Osamu’s so deep inside of him, too deep, insistent in brushing past his prostate so the buildup is slow. And then one moment he is here, the next Akaashi’s heartbeat is so loud in his ears he doesn’t notice anything else, throwing his head back and stilling on top of Osamu; letting cum drip all over his fist and Osamu’s belly.

Osamu comes soon after, grabbing at Akaashi’s hips and bending his knees so he can fuck up into him in quick, erratic movements. He lets out a deep groan, spilling inside the condom as Akaashi watches his face furrow with pleasure.

Then, stillness.

Akaashi slowly bends down to press his face into Osamu’s collarbone. Both of their chests are quick to rise and fall with the way they are trying to catch their breath. After a while, Osamu rolls them over so he is hovering over Akaashi and pressing soft kisses to his lips, moving across his cheek and then placing a lingering one on his forehead. Akaashi wrinkles his nose.

“We are disgusting.”

“We’re gonna take a shower.”

Akaashi rises up on his elbows then, but gets pushed back down by Osamu, who burrows his face into the crook of Akaashi’s neck. “Sorry, I’ll move in a bit. As soon as my brain starts back up.”

  
He huffs out a laugh. Cards his fingers through Osamu’s dark hair, basking in the fuzzy feeling still coasting through his body. Osamu is warm, half on top of him, their legs tangled.

Akaashi considers this. It could be any time between six and nine in the morning. He is lying in bed with Miya Osamu and he is buzzing with electricity, alive and not pulled taut, because it isn’t quite winter yet. Somewhere in between. And this, too, a moment with them both overlapping. Inevitable. Akaashi buries his smile in the crown of Osamu’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> write the smut you want to see in this world
> 
> i do not have a hq twitter account however i Am Watching👀  
> perhaps soon
> 
> ...so i caved and u can find me [here](https://twitter.com/smexysamu)


End file.
